Always Knock First
by Vancome
Summary: A set of oneshots that are tied together by the idea “Always Knock First”. They’re all about people forgetting to knock first. Each chapter has a different theme, ranging from silly to angst to betrayal to crack. Mostly Plaude scenarios. Reviews are love


Always Knock First

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A set of one-shots that are tied together by the idea "Always Knock First". They're all about people forgetting to knock first. Each chapter has a different theme, ranging from silly to angst to betrayal to crack. Mostly Plaude scenarios. Reviews are love and keep me writing!

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Claude entered the apartment, not bothering to knock. Why should he? He'd been training Mr. Nuclear for weeks now, and had never knocked before. The kid was a saint, what could he have to hide? Unfortunately, Claude was soon regretting his rash decision. The invisible man had stumbled upon a scene no lover should see. His beloved bomb in the clutches of another. The door slammed shut behind Claude and Peter jumped up from the couch in shock. 

"Claude! Oh god…I…it's not wh-" Peter began rambling guiltily. He was saved from explanation by an angry muttering of "Shut it" tainted by a thick accent. Peter flinched visibly at the gruff tone and Claude's resolves softened for a moment. But the moment brought on by Peter's pout was over before it could alter the Brits mood as he glanced at the lump of matter still resting on the couch, gazing at Peter adoringly.

"What is that doing here?" Claude demanded harshly, biting out each word as if it were lodged in his throat and choking him. To emphasize his disgust he threw out an accusing finger, silently threatening the couch-bound paramour. Peter just mouthed incoherent phrases under Claude's piercing gaze.

"C'mon poodle, haven't got all day. If you're not answering me too bad." With that the bearded bastard made moves towards the exit, which was promptly blocked by a telekinetic door slam. Claude turned on his heels, not missing a beat.

"Don't be stupid pup. Let me out."

"Why should I!? You burst in here uninvited, prancing around like you own the place, coming and going as you please, beating the shit out of me when you're here and worrying me to death when you're not. Is it any wonder I'd turn to someone else?" Peter avoided the older man's eyes on the last sentence of his relatively short but extremely emotionally charged rant, and the pleading stare from underneath the adorable bangs was not lost on Claude.

"Look, I wasn't trying to do anything else but stop you from blowing up half of New York and if I had to throw you off a few buildings, so be it. Besides the look on your face is priceless when you forget you can fly." This sentence was followed by a fondly amused grin, then Claude sobered up and continued "I trained you, that's all I was supposed to do. I'm harsh, that's life kid. Grow up."

"Grow up? That's all you have to say to me?" Peter was on the verge of crying, something Claude hated about the boy. The chit was way too sensitive.

"Yeah, not much else to say, now that you're with that _thing_." Claude turned towards the door for a second time, and tried to open it. _"Damn, poodles gotten better at controlling this. I should stop being so good at this."_

At that, Peter burst into laughter. After several minutes of the dark-haired nurse rolling around the floor at his feet, Claude finally snapped "And what, may I ask, is so damn funny?"

Peter extracted himself from the floor and looked up at Claude. He cocked his head to the side and replied simply "You." Claude glared and lifted Peter a few inches off the ground by his shirt collar.

"Pup, you've got t-minus 10 seconds to explain yourself before you find yourself thrown off yet _another_ building." The man was planning on making more threats but suddenly found his mouth otherwise occupied. Seems the poodle decided to break away from his leash and got it into his head that the best way to do that was to shove his tongue down an angry British mans throat. Which Claude responded to, as only he can, by shoving Peter off him, over the coffee table and onto the couch. As the invisible man pinned the empathy into the cushions, Peter felt something digging into his back. He arched into Claude, increasing the friction between them all the while searching around for what was under him. He grasped a handle and pulled it out. Claude caught sight of it and the earlier image of Peter cuddling the leather object surfaced. He growled and flung it across the apartment. The sound of the stolen purse hitting the wall was easily drowned out by gasps and moans as Claude worked out his jealously over Peter's obsession with the handbag.

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More to come soon! Review? You know you want too!  



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